[James Nichols from Bowling for Columbine]Them people, law enforcement, if you want to call them thatWere here and they were shaking in their shoes. They were physicallyShaking, scared to death. Because certain people, said I'm a radicalI'm a wild man, I got a gun under every arm, if you say anythingI'll shoot you. If the people find out how they've beenRipped off, and enslaved, they will revolt with the bloodRunning in the sheets

Yo, Ticket to ride, the white crime, highwayBring all the guns, the funds will come my wayWhether we deliverin' high gradeTo the people in the pit of the tri-stateOr dabble in the hood like fly weightsLock and load in the range with rock the globeMade any aim possibleTil the leadbelly lost controlIn the hold of the paper that foldAt one time was related to goldMade many men lose their soulTo the price of the dice that rollHow can a light so bright make a man so cold?So another man's plans unfoldCan you really see the truth til it happens to youIts so severe what the hopeless will do

Ain't no pickin' your position to beginning your lifeNot every man want to stand by his kids and his wifeToo many lost kids in the nightHand on heat, grippin' it tightAny man want beef could get it rightFollowed by enough flame to put a permanent endTo the learning of menClass session, too many the blast the last lessonOften taught like the wars that are often foughtAs old as mankindNow outta his damn mindStand on the gunpowder landmineReady to blow at any secondI'm checking for the signs of the endOf all-time, I figure it's on time, my last thoughts forming the rhyme

Got me running through the streetsThat reek of the dead, it's more food to the wealthyMy niggaz on welfare, nobody givin' up healthcareNothing but heat, how you gonna tell me it ain't hell here?George Bush having a swell yearSwingin' the gat, ready to clap, anything on the mapYou done seen what they bring to IraqNow bring it back to the source, land of the physical forceLand of the gun, land of the gun, land of the gun, land of the gun!

This is the place where the cops rush in the buildingParamilitary death squads murder your childrenEmpty shell of a man rippin' shots in the airSoldiers dying out there, but nobody caresPrepare for the future but make note of the pastOr be condemned to live it again and get blastClass warfare kept outta the newsReplaced by a corporation's political viewsCause this is where the guns are manufactured and soldThe land that was stolen stripped of all of it's goldOld timers on the death bed speakin' the wisdomImmigrants crucified by conservative ChristiansNow we all got freedom to die in the streetBut the difference is more of us die in a weekThan they die in a year I made it clearWhere I stand when the line is drawnBut now the line is goneAnd nigga anything goesThe land where the guns don't let anything growAnd what the fuck you niggaz know about living in hellYou not built like me you never lived in a cellYou never gambled with your soulFuck the ice on your hand, gun in your palmBut you got a niggaz life in your handYoung man, just remember that slicing a gramIs a bloody game, like throwin' mice in a fanMy words flow like the rivers that's west of IranThe fertile crescent moon, with the star in the middleI reveal the depth of history's scars when I scribbleI gave you the world, and I ain't even charged you a littleThe martyr is crippledThe prophets are dead and buried, but the message is simpleAnd it's not written down in holy books as a riddle

Now we running through the streets, starvin'On that guerilla warfareMy people stuck in a guerilla warfareInnocent children screamin' in tearsYou actin' like the army ain't put hell hereMilitary industry havin' a swell yearSwinging a gat while lying in heavenLiving off a blank check after 9/11But I'm have the truth brought back to the sourceFight for my land with physical forceSpeak through music, the subliminal courseI need a tech and a clip, fuck a jag and a PorscheLand of the gun, land of the gun, land of the gun, land of the gun